not like the other . . . yet again

Moments ago, The Boy put his book down and asked if his bath was ready.  He apparently didn't actually make it to the bath.  I can hear him playing with Big Brother.

I'm going to step away for a moment and remind him of his cooling bath water and will take up right there when I get back.

And I return, several hours later, having washed hair, allowed computer time, and texted Big Brother.  I thought he was in his room, and I wanted to tell him his brother was out of the bath and that he needed to get into the shower.  He was already in the bathroom though occupied in other pursuits at the time.

And all of that is finally done, they are in bed, yet I can still hear them talking.  I'm not even a little worried, but we do need to start soon getting ourselves back to school hours.

I mentioned earlier that The Boy's bath was ready, and I came back into the living room and told him so.  He was sprawled on the sofa reading an Akiko book.

Big Brother is a somewhat self taught devourer of books and words.  He's been reading since he was four and with little prodding on the part of me or Momma.  We have always been available and willing, but we've always tried, in that true unschooling spirit, to not help when it wasn't wanted or helpful.

With The Boy we wanted to be the same, but like so many kids he just wasn't into it in the same way.  He really didn't want help unless he did and then only on his sometimes (always) strict and difficult to understand terms, so all the lessons we thought we'd learned with his brother were of no use.  We remained available and willing, but he always seemed as if he knew he could put it off and that we'd continue to help him.

With the boys' transition last winter from unschool to public school, lots of things changed, and one of those changes was that The Boy, so far a slightly interested, beginning reader was having to read and to learn to read very suddenly.  And he took to it like a pirate to booty.  He brought the books home that he'd worked on at school, and he sat and worked on them and read them to us.

He still sometimes would prefer to have some reading done for him, but he's been doing it for himself as well.  He attempted to read Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea recently and didn't get very far.  I'd playfully suggested it one day, knowing that he'd likely enjoy the story but that the language would likely be a bit much for him.  He did ask me to read the first chapter for him.

He also spent some time reading the Frog and Toad books recently, but I don't know that he ever really read them.  They went from one house to the other a couple of times, but each time they seemed to sit in the same place until they traveled again.

I've suggested he read any number of books over the past few weeks.  I don't want him to have to relearn anything as he enters school again, but as importantly I want him to realize joy in reading.  Mostly I suggest books when the code words "I'm bored" actually mean, "it sure would be nice to play some video games."

Also, he does love a good story.  His bed time reading is The Silver Chair at my house, and at Momma's house they're reading Farmer Boy.  The Silver Chair is one of the Narnia books, while Farmer Boy is Almonzo Wilder's childhood before he goes west and meets Laura Ingalls.

And tonight, even though it was bath time, and even though I worried I'd have a cold bath to rewarm, I let him read.  It took him a while to read through the first chapter, but he did, and maybe he'll remember tomorrow that Akiko has just set out on an adventure, and maybe he'll be interested enough to continue the story.

I don't care if he becomes the reader his brother is, but I want him to read.  It really is the best thing since whatever was before sliced bread.  But then I'd argue that sliced bread isn't that great an invention, but that just opens the door for all sorts of nonsense about expediency versus quality along with the increasing pace of our lives.  And I'm just not doing that one right now.

My point is that he sat (sprawled, knees and elbows everywhere) and read the kind of book you need a bookmark for.  I'll rewarm a bath for that.

p.s. I hate using the phrase "worked on" along with the word "reading," but it really is apt.  It just makes it sound so . . . and has connotations of all the evil gschool stuff one might have heard me preach not so long ago.

Bike and test

If this works you can see a pic of my bike. I've published a test post using my mobile device before, but I'm now testing an app that I hope makes this easier. Also I'm working on getting his blog back to some kinda something again.

fights in fridges

Yes, it's noon here in beautiful (if humid) east TN, and yes, I've been up for about an hour.  I have made coffee, pooped, smoked, checked my phone, cleaned the two refrigerator shelves I've been ignoring for far too long, wiped out inside same refrigerator, and found a small sword stuck into part of the vent system.

Relax, it's a Playmobile sword, so the danger is minimal, but still . . .

I asked the boys about it, but neither of them remembers playing with Playmobile toys in there, and certainly neither remembers leaving a sword.  It may well remain a mystery for the ages, but I would like to know who's been fighting in the fridge.

like a something doing something

I've always edited for content those things I've sent out into the world before.  I may have not always edited or chosen as well as I could, but I've also set myself up as being better than I really am in real life.

I'm not nearly as soft spoken or as well thought out.  There isn't much of a filter out with friends or even at work.  Work is easy because we're all a bunch of losers on our way to hell anyway.  Actually we're a fairly random sampling sort of place with too many people who are in bands.  It'll be hell night at work if they all played a show together.

I also talk a lot at work, and probably you can't really imagine what a lot means in this little story, but it's a near constant aural barrage on my coworkers running the gamut from t.v. theme songs from my childhood to a constant dissing of any music playing that I don't like which is tempered by my witty way of sometimes singing with rather bawdy false lyrics replacing the actual ones.  I also might sometimes be a little forward with some of the male servers.

In all these instances my desire is to amuse, to give a worthy laughing dialogue to a sometimes monotonous yet often horrific duty in our kitchen and dining areas.  And as for being sometimes too friendly to the boys, I must say I think it's part of my job to let them actually know a homo and to be forced to deal with me on my terms so that they are nudged toward the realization that gay people are just as obnoxious and normal as they are and to get over any lingering nonsense.

I include nearly anyone in my joking and say things that are often over the line of decency, but my intent is never to hurt anyone, and when people realize that I'm really a decent guy they tend to cut me more slack than I deserve probably.  On some level I like to make sure that as many people take the fall as I can possibly squeeze in.  We all have some stereotype we can fit, and it's my job to remind everyone that it's only funny if anyone can fit into it.  Or I'm just making that up to pump myself up.

So we finally get to the point of my meandering.  Bob Vander Plaats runs a "family" group in Iowa that thinks that gay people are really not good at all.  He's a far right social conservative that led a campaign to have judges removed from office because they voted to allow marriage equality in Iowa.  He's on a mission from god to be as big a douche as he's capable of to gay people.  

He was caught on video reacting to a joke that suggested that in Iowa one is unable to enjoy a cigarette but that loving gay couples are allowed to marry.  I'm lifting the story from Box Turtle Bulletin, so click on their name for their take on the matter and more of the story plus links to why this guy Bob is an ass and why they hate the joke and his laughter.  They also have video.

I don't get the joke at all.  I'm not from Iowa, though I do have an aunt and uncle and possibly some cousins there.  I met them once many years ago, and they seemed like decent people.

To be honest the actual joke goes as such, in Iowa you can't smoke a fag, but you can marry one.  And perhaps my not being of Iowan heritage I'm unaware of some nuance that renders this joke unfunny to me.  And that's why I hate it.

Oh, I also hate that the guy laughing at the joke isn't getting it either.  I'm sure you can still smoke cigarettes in Iowa . . .

. . . unless the meaning of the joke is that it's unlawful to use a firearm to shoot a homosexual.  That might be another nuance of the joke as "to smoke" is popular parlance for shooting someone or something with a firearm.  That totally moves the joke along, because then you're suggesting that actually shooting someone for being gay is cleverly juxtaposed against basic human dignity and equality.

Wow, now I get why it's funny.  Man do I feel silly.

oooh, weather

Our fifty percent chance of thunderstorms is fast becoming one hundred percent.  At two thirty in the afternoon the clouds outside make it look more like seven thirty.

The rain is falling as heavily as it likely soon will be, and the wind is strong but only in short bursts as of yet.

Even so you can almost hear, somewhere in the distance, the worst that is yet to come.

(2/2) e a good motivator.

(1/2) There's a point at which I just have to do something, and I'm starting to get that maybe. I really think that providing myself with proof really should b

This is a test. This is only a test. In the event of a real emergency please feel free to consider yourself screwed.

gonna bitch about it

I almost don't wanna even bother.  I haven't posted in ages, and I haven't even been online on the ol' trusty desktop in days.  I even turned the damn thing off a few days ago knowing I wouldn't see it for at least most of two days, and then I managed to add at least a day to that.

I do have my fancy new phone, however the battery life has left something to be desired.  Finally getting near the desktop however may have fixed all that for me.  I googled my problem and visited some forums and went via the phone to the Android market for what I hope is a fix.

I also took the boys out for dinner tonight, and this why I actually sat down to write.  The experience was one of the worst and the best I've had out in a long time.

It was the worst because my food was ruined.  The server put our food down, I didn't quite look at it, though I did make sure we had everything and it was all in its proper place.

And then I looked at the plate in front of me.  Immediately I saw that my sweet potato chips looked mostly burnt, though picking through them later I realized that not more than about thirty percent were REALLY burnt.  Most of the rest were merely overdone.

I pointed this out to the server, and he brought me a new unburned order as quickly as he was able.  And here's a little sidetrack that's sorta helpful.

Over the years I've taken part in a useless battle that occurs in far too many restaurants, a battle that pits the front and back of house against each other.  It's usually the kitchen that makes this battle ever happen at all, but then the servers are forced to deal with it the best they can.

And often this might mean that the server would rather face an unhappy customer with food that's obviously not right than mention to the kitchen what he/she can too easily see.  Or maybe they're used to seeing the food that way and don't get that it's burnt, or maybe they see it and don't give a shit.

Worse is that someone in the kitchen was willing to send this out.  They cooked food for too long and made it suck, but rather than throw it away and do it right, they tossed it on the plate and sent it out.  They couldn't have not know that they made bad food.

I put my chicken sandwich together and cut it in half.  It was a whole boneless, skinless breast, both lobes, and they were still attached via the bit of cartilege between them.  That bothers me, but I'm not going to be a dick about that.  It's a matter of taste.

I bit into the sandwich and once again knew immediately that it too was over done.  I hoped that it was just a little tough because I started at the thinner end, but too soon I was into the thicker meat and was having to rip bites out, and the chicken was pulling out of the bun, and the sandwich was essentially inedible.  If I'd cooked it for myself, and if I suddenly forgot how to cook and made it this bad, I'd have eaten it.  I'm not really one to waste food.

But I'm not paying for food that is so poorly done.  I couldn't eat the sandwich, and I really tried.  After not catching the server's eye for far too long I was finally able to lodge my complaint.  He took the plate of over done food away and spoke with the manager who was kind enough to not make me pay.

He didn't talk to me.  He didn't offer to do anything to make me feel better, and I don't really know what I would have wanted of him.  I didn't eat the food, and he didn't make me pay for the bad parts.  I left the store unsatisfied, having not gotten anywhere close to what I wanted despite my willingness as a customer.

And now I'm hungry, and I shouldn't be, and because I haven't been at the house much for a couple of days or so there really isn't anything here to eat.  That's entirely my fault.

By this point the kids were done eating.  I wasn't going to make them sit and wait for me to get and eat a new entree, and I wasn't willing to sit and wait and then pay for food when my experience had been so marred.

But then we sat at the table.  I munched on the bowl of not burned chips and the extra side of fries I let The Boy get since we were out for his birthday.  He didn't like his other side, black beans, but because it wasn't what he expected, but I enjoyed them and brought them with the other leftovers.

We had a really nice time as we sat and waited.  I had to pay the bill and finish a beer, and they were both not quite impatient and sooo ready to go just yet.  And it was a really nice time.  The munching had taken the edge off my hunger, so my mood had been helped by that, and the boys were both full and happy.

And we just hung out for a little bit.  We chatted.  I saw pictures that Big Brother took with his phone at his school's cultural fair.  I even got to see a picture of some kid's rendition of Abraham Lincoln leading the Hebrew people out of Egypt.

It was cool in the end.

kilt the sumbitch

I have a few thoughts on the apparent killing of Osama bin Laden.  And I'm going to share.

I got off work yesterday (Sunday May 1, fwiw) about four, got a beer at the bar, and sat on the patio in front of work.  I drank a couple of beers and hung out with various other work and/or downtown people waiting for the evening and a surprise going away party for a coworker.

The party was held in the upstairs of a bar a few feet away, so I didn't really get too far from the same place all day.  I may have ridden from one parking garage to another and back to reorient my senses, but that really has nothing to do with Osama or his recent death.

Later on in the night, the party had gone from SUPRISE! to the band playing and people milling about, many of us having moved to the patio as the upstairs is non smoking.

At some point, after having walked down an alley for no good reason I returned and heard chatter about our having killed Osama bin Laden.

My first thoughts in the random number generator that is my head involved, who care? are you sure? and then I went off on some other tangents that have solidified more today as I thought about it all less drunk.

Some of the fun last night was just messing with people, and some of these people, generally sane seeming in normal life, were growing a little upset that I was willing to attempt to detract from the gravity of the situation.  Other, possibly drunker people, cheered on when I shouted, "Hell yeah!  We killed Obama bin Muslim."

I tried it today and everyone got it immediately, so it could have been late night at a bar, but it still makes me laugh.

I also don't attach a lot of importance to some brown guy with a beard and a long white shirt from the other side of the world.  I just can't accept that he has that much power over us.  Sure, if the new stories are correctly presenting the situation, Osama got a few good licks in.  The the US got serious about hunting him down, and since then he hasn't able to do too damn much, though his organization has apparently kept several country's military arms fairly busy.

And finally, the things that solidified in my head over the course of this morning.  I truly believe that people like Newt Gingrich and Mike Huckabee pose a far greater threat to our liberty than any Islamic terrorist.

solidified thing no. 2-There are people who look to Osama as a hero and likely now a martyr.  Perhaps they do hate us freedom loving Americans.  I don't hate them.  I don't know them, and I think if I were to meet them they might rethink their own feelings.  Or maybe they don't really hate us.  Maybe they look at things our country has done, or perhaps they feel as if they've been mistreated by our country.  I can't know what's in their hearts, but I have to assume they are generally sincere in their beliefs.  Perhaps if we talked we could find a middle ground.  I don't know.  But certainly they hurt when we kill them just as we hurt when they kill us, and neither side seems to have fixed anything even now.  There may well be better news tomorrow.

learn where you can

The title of this post may be misleading to any long time readers.  This post is not about homeschooling or school or anything like that, and it isn't about children learning.

It's about me, and you may already know that I've joined the dark side and purchased a pair of Crocs to wear to work.  If I'd gone to the cool shoe store in the mall first I could have saved some other store visits and some time spent at the mall, a place I generally loathe.

I've been anti Croc for some time now.  When the damn things first showed up a few years back I hated them and swore I'd never darken a pair with my feet.  Having worked in kitchens I'v been around my share of clogs, and then Crocs started showing up there as well.

I swore by a good pair of boots for years as my kitchen shoe of choice, and then I realized that a stout shoe worked as well and that I didn't miss the whole ankle support thing.  I've been through my share of both over the years, wearing out more pairs of shoes than I care to remember.

And then recently I may have spent some time pacing in circles in a sort of detention facility, and my current home county may provide inmates with orange, fake crocs to pace circles in.

And while I hate to admit that my epiphany happened here, I didn't hate the shoes.  In fact I started to understand why so many coworkers wore these type of shoes.

And then I had some foot issues for the past week and change, and my latest kitchen shoes made the problem worse.  They are also slowly falling apart, wearing through at each intersection of stitching that holds the different pieces of leather together.  I've been in the market to be in the market for new shoes for a couple of months at least, but I've put off actually looking because of time and because I can be cheap and want to get every last bit of wear out of a pair of shoes.

The shoes I'm currently wearing are old Converse that, when new, were my all time faves, and which have been worn solely while mowing the grass for the last four years.  They're also loose and forgiving of the aforementioned foot issue while my newer non work shoes will likely be the last pair of narrow Converse I ever buy.  I just can't deal with them anymore, and they were also not friendly to the foot issue.

So that's my story.  I work at nine in the a.m. tomorrow, and I'll take the Crocs on their initial run then.  I may hate them seven to eight hours later when I get off work, or I may have fallen in love with these things I so derided such a short time ago.  Maybe I'll bore your asses off with that tale tomorrow night.

wouldn't it be nice

The following was posted on Facebook as a friend's status.  I started to make my own points about each of these fond memories, but I don't have it in me to be that guy to this particular person.  So I'm calling blog fodder and bitching it out here.  Also, it's not about bikes for the most part.

If you grew up on home cooked meals, you rode a bike with no helmet, your parents house was not "child-proof" , you got a whippin' when you misbehaved, had 3 TV channels you got up to change or went outside to turn the antenna, school started with the Pledge of Allegiance, stores were closed on Sunday, you drank water out of a water hose and still turned out okay, re-post this and show that you survived.

I grew up on home cooked meals for the most part.  My mother's repertoire was varied somewhat, and for the most part I'd say it was basically  basic American (USA edition) with a strong southern bent.  I may well know how to cook a lot more things than she ever needed, but what she cooked was always good.  Her own mother apparently was never much of a cook, so my own mother was essentially self taught.  Other than liver night I have no complaints about her cooking.


Yes, I rode a bike with no helmet, and though I've begun to wear one there was some small amount of wanting to fight it on my part.  I hate bike helmets that look like some sort of alien's skull on top of your own.  I feel like I look like a douche in them, and I put off buying a helmet for some time.  Big Brother had a helmet in time to start riding his bike to school, and I'm glad he wears it.  I'm not sure how I feel about the law, but where we live the helmets-on-bicycles law applies to those sixteen and under.


But I do wear a helmet.  I finally visited the skateboard shop and bought a helmet I don't loathe.  I even put one of the stickers the shop guy gave me on the side to attempt to get back some coolness points.  I can heal from a broken arm or leg, but impact induced loss of what little mental accuity I still have because I chose not to wear a helmet is likely a slightly worse blow, no pun intended.


As well as I remember the house I grew up in was not especially child proof, but sensible precautions were taken to care for any children and to guard against the likelihood of dangerous items reaching their hands.  And my own house has been the same way.  I don't have any intention to leave harm lying around in the path of my children, but I also understand that some lessons will be learned the hard way, so I make sure those lessons aren't the truly threatening ones.


You got a whippin?  How do people still glorify this sort of behavior?  I certainly got plenty of them myself, but I've worked really hard not to bring that into my present.  That I've turned out as well as I have in spite of being struck as a child as punishment for misdeeds does not make it okay to continue the tradition of striking kids.


We had more than three channels, and for a few years we did have to get up to change channels.  It involved turning a knob, and sometimes you had to adjust the rabbit ear antenna while barely turning the UHF knob to try to find the kung fu movies.  I appreciate technology and am more than happy to change channels by pushing a button while staying comfortably on the sofa.


Most people I know don't have a problem with the pledge of allegiance, but I do know people who have a problem with the phrase "under god" being a part of it.  I have a problem with that phrase.  It's a way of excluding people, and I think that it's unAmerican.  I don't like it, and I don't think it should be there.  


Stores can close on Sunday or any other day.  The place I work at closes early on Sunday, and a restaurant down the square closes early on Monday.  No one should have to not open on Sunday, and I'll go so far as to say that blue laws should not exist that require certain businesses to not open on Sundays.  The only reason this exists is as a vague nod to religious traditions that many people don't necessarily follow, and it feeds into the system that allows exclusion of people based on religion.


I would probably still drink out of the water hose unless it tasted like water hose, and if I were thirsty enough even that wouldn't matter.


Other things that I like about progress is that there aren't colored water fountains and white water fountains, and you sit on the bus wherever you damn well please.  I like multiple television channels as well as the internet and smart phones and off buttons.  I like that I don't pretend I'm not gay any more.  I also like bobbers, decidedly low tech, as well as vintage bicycles, even older tech.  I like Sriracha a whole lot, which I haven't talked about lately, but I could easily do a blog post on that lovely little bottle of chili sauce.


There's nothing new there really for anyone that actually knows me or has read here for a while.  It's all standard stuff, and I do get why that misty eyed view of the past is so powerful.  I also get that progress for the sake of progress isn't always worth shit.  Maybe it's just me, because this little paragraph shows up periodically, and I hate every time, probably a little more each time than the last.  Hell, why don't we just go back to when we were banging rocks together, when our only real fear was getting gored by the wooly mammoth we planned to hunt as soon as we found one.  That's the life, no traffic, no screaming kids in restaurants, no tail winds from the Mexican we had for lunch, nothing but banging these here rocks and wondering whether I'd ever see the sun again every time a cloud covered it for a moment.

adding to the list

At some point last night I wrote a post.  As is my usual habit I walked outside to smoke before editing and fixing and posting, and I never got around to posting it.  And now I probably never will.

But I will tell you some of what it said.  Also, are you tired of bike talk yet?

Leaving work yesterday I stopped in at the downtown bike shop to learn that my new stem will be in today, that I can bring the bike in today and likely pick it up tomorrow with new handlebars.  They didn't have any helmets that I like.

I rode a few minutes down the road to the next nearest bike shop and also didn't find any helmets that I liked, but I did find the bike that I thought might be just right for Big Brother, so I continued riding to Momma's house where I locked my bike to her front porch rail and took The Boy and Momma's car to go pick up Big Brother from school.

From there we went back to the bike shop so Big Brother could voice an opinion and perhaps choose from the available models within our price range.  The one road bike they had was really sweet looking and too small for me and sort of pink looking.  It actually looked like it had once been red but had faded to pink, as Big Brother pointed out, also mentioning that he nonetheless still didn't want a pink bike.

He did like the Schwinn mountain bike that looks an awful lot like a slightly smaller version of mine but in black, dark gray, and yellow.  While the back tire is knobby, the front tire is the type I'd considered looking at for my mountain bike before letting the mania talk me into the road bike.

Our next shopping adventure was to Kmart for a helmet and bike lock and a pair of inner tubes for the bike we already have that I hope The Boy will learn to ride on.  He has a pretty cool big wheel that he's loved riding the past couple of years, but the bike mania is at least a little contagious it seems.

This morning, as the boys were eating breakfast, I handed Big Brother the instructions that came with his helmet so that he could adjust it properly for his head.  He was working on that when I drove The Boy to school, and was wearing it and ready to go when I arrived back home about ten minutes later.

The weather was a bit chilly, and though he rode the bike a bit both before we bought it and after we brought it home, it's a bit new to him still.  It's a great fit for him, but he's used to a BMX bike and also hasn't ridden since before winter.

I trailed him to school and did that thing I do where I probably talk to much and try to help too much.  He was a little skittish facing downhill and didn't want to go too fast.  I kept having to slow down and not run him over.  And overall it was a really nice way to start the day.  Google maps is telling me it's 1.3 miles and should take me six minutes.  We easily doubled the time, but that's fine of course.

And now I'm off to run errands.  Deposit a check, bike stuff, something to eat, home, laundry that needs to be folded, pick up The Boy from school, look out the window for Big Brother riding by himself.  I'm sure I've forgotten something.

and i'll eat out of containers while standing up

I should warn you now that this yet another post about bikes.  I've been taken over with a sort of mania, but there's also something about this that just feels right.  It's like I've gone back to something I never should have let go of.

I flirted with bikes three times over the years since my childhood when riding my bike was a nearly daily occurrence.  When Momma and I lived in Charlotte I was able to retrieve the last bike I'd owned in Atlanta, and I was soon riding quite a bit.  Then one night, after riding home fairly drunk from somewhere, I forgot to lock the bike outside our apartment door and never saw it again.

The next bike I owned was purchased from a coworker about six (maybe, time is a blurry sensation at best for me generally) years ago.  It was a cheap bike from a big box retailer.  It rode like shit and sucked then and still sucks now sitting in the garage with its rusty shit wheels.  I rode it around the house approximately ten total times over the course of a week and then never again.  I wish I had that twenty bucks back.  Fuck!

The next bike was last summer when I lived in the Fort.  It was also a big box bike, but my mindset then was in a different and more biking places friendly sort of place.  I used the bike a lot and then sold it to my ex landlord as I moved back to the house I'm now in.  While I'd enjoyed riding the bike to work from the Fort I didn't think I'd ever ride a bike from this house to downtown assuming it was just too far.

And finally my sweet red bike that I love but might replace tomorrow.  It's actually today by the time you are likely to read this as it's after eleven o'clock here.  Regardless, I do now ride this bike that far often enough, and I've ridden it plenty of other places too.  And I actually love riding this bike even though we're on city streets and it's made for narrow trails and dirt berms and jumps over the rough spot

Since I've begun riding the bike I've slipped into the edges of a thing that could be mania twenty years ago with no Momma, Big Brother, and The Boy.  But that's not the world I inhabit, so I'll gladly enjoy the tease of it and try to be smart about stuff.

And apparently I'll start contacting some guy on Craigslist about his early '80's Schwinn with the newer "comfort" handlebars, and I'll have asked if he has the original set.  And that whole tomorrow thing, yeah, I'm gonna wait for him to call and go look at the bike in the evening.

With any luck Momma will be there, because really the bike would be for her.  If it's a good size for her and is in good condition and she wants it she gets it.  In the day and a half since I found it and thought about her wanting a bike (she's mentioned it before) I've tried to have her in mind, but I keep looking at it.  It's kinda like seeing a boy at a party that you like, but you know he's straight and interested in your friend.

It's really not like that at all, but I want the bike now that I've been looking at it and thinking about it, and I feel bad because I don't want the bike I already have to find out.  That can't be good.  And I still want to ride him on the street tires I might also go look at tomorrow, but then would I ever ride him how he's meant to be ridden?  Would I ever take my beautiful mountain bike mountain biking?

Maybe I'll just keep buying bikes until I'm crazy early '80's Schwinn guy.  Yeah, that's the best idea yet.

don't never mind the bollards, srsly

Alas the rain again could also be a title for this post.  As promised, the rain has once again moved into my stormy little slice of heaven.

To be honest a weather forecast isn't the same as a promise, but lately, if it involves rain, it kinda seems like it is.

I find excuses not to ride in the rain.  With a few adjustments I could take most of the issues out of the problem, and I know that at some point I'm going to have to just do it.  I've done it before, and other than a wet butt for a while it wasn't so bad.

My newest fixation is bike tires.  One day, when I can actually have a nice day off, while the kids are in school and I have the time, I'm going to look into a new pair of tires for my bike.  It would be a great joy to me to take the bike out and ride to the bike shop and ride away with tires made for asphalt.

Have I mentioned that it's a mountain bike?  It's older, but it's a great bike and it rides well, but I can't deal with these tires anymore.  I have knobby mountain bike tires, and that makes perfect sense for a mountain bike.  But right now, it isn't really a mountain bike.  It sees the ridges that make this town so much fun to bike through, but that ain't the same.

What I need is a tire built for the asphalt, and companies are apparently making tires specifically for people turning mountain bikes into commuter bikes.  That's what I'm doing.  Apparently I'm not starting something new.

I just love the way this bike works, and I love how he and I work together.  I also decorated him tonight.  That's right, I just called the bike he.  Whatcha gonna do about it?  The only other thing I've done to the bike was to add lights and adjust the seat.  I did also put a reflective sticker on the front before riding home from work one night at the insistence of a coworker, but that thing is gonna have to come off.  It's probably a not bad idea, but it's ugly, and I need to have a real light up there anyway if I'm riding at night.

I also mentioned a decoration.  Two days ago, preparing for an all out grocery procuring blitz, I was sorting through the shopping bags to see if they were all there when I discovered the skull.  It's a small metal skull that was part of a skeleton that has hung from the rear view mirrors of the last three cars that Momma and I shared.  It stayed with me in the Honda when Momma moved on in her own car world.

I found parts of it when I cleaned the Honda out after the "accident" and didn't remember finding the skull.  I seem to remember some other random parts, but I'm not sure now what I would have done with them since.  I grabbed the shopping bags when I went to the impound lot that night and apparently didn't completely empty them out when I finally sorted through the bags later.

I'm kinda excited about the tires idea.  I can feel the knobbies working against me I think.  Also I want the rain to quickly fall and then move along.  I get that it's spring in east TN, but seriously, I've kinda had enough this year.  I'm ready to move along.

the ill

When I mentioned my interview today I neglected to have the future vision that would tell me that today would not be a good day for it.  I had no way to know that The Boy would wake this morning sick.

He's actually been at least a little sick for the past week.  He's had days that he felt fine, and we assumed he was over it.

After school yesterday he ate a snack and did his homework, but then he lounged on the sofa complaining that he was tired.  He fell asleep and wasn't hungry when I got pizza, and he only woke to watch Big Brother play Zelda.

He asleep now, his arms pulled inside his shirt.  He's just cold enough for that, but he doesn't want a blanket.

I've tried to call hoping to postpone the interview, but no one is answering the phone just yet.  The Grandfather is here finishing up some of the plumbing begun yesterday, and I'm sure he'd be willing to be here for the time I needed to run, but at the same time I feel bad not being here should something arise.

There's also the part where I haven't yet told my current employer that I'm looking elsewhere, and in fact I wasn't looking elsewhere.  This interview fell into my lap, and if I didn't think it was likely to be a good opportunity I wouldn't bother.  I also did not pick up a few hours today when the current employer called earlier to ask if I could come in at noon.  And with my luck someone from work would very likely see me across the square at the other restaurant, and that would surely begin some tiny amount of drama.  Restaurants are fueled, to some small extent, by drama, and I'm not willing to fan those flames just yet.

So I have just over an hour before meeting the people, and I'm not really sure what to do.  I'll probably wait till noon and hope someone answers the phone then.  Or I might ask The Grandfather for the favor.

i dunno, maybe

Writing a much different post I suddenly realized that my bike is in the trunk of Momma's car which is at her house with the rest of the car.  And I'll see her and the car before I need the bike again.

The Grandfather Who Owns The House did some plumbing and some lawn mowing today.  I did a small amount of mowing and told him I'd finish tomorrow.  I should have time, assuming I can get either of the mowers to work.  I know he'll get them working, but he's uncanny that way

I wish my bike was here.  Even though it doesn't matter.

I also have a surprise interview tomorrow.  A guy I used to work with works across the square at a much different restaurant which is apparently about to lose a couple of people, so they're looking for someone, and this guy remembers me from about a year ago.

There's a whole love/hate relationship, hopefully entirely one sided, between me and my current place of employment.  I've been underpaid most of the time I've been there.  At the same time I've been passed over for all sorts of perks that I think could have at least been offered to me.

My availability has been fairly limited the entire time I've worked there, though I have ample hours that I can actually work.  For what it's worth, I was also the only one with kids most of time that I've been there other than the owner who has both kids and grandkids.  There is now another employee, not too bad of a guy, who easily skated into the job of other main kitchen person second to the kitchen manager.  I'm not sure of his exact title, and I don't know what he makes.  He also has kids, but I won't get into his story.  I am, however, glad that I only parented children with a single other person.

I really don't know much about the place I'm visiting tomorrow.  I know a little, but I've actually never been in.  My going out to restaurant time has kids in it 90% of the time with the other ten being bar food when that's all that's open.  I did treat myself to Mexican recently, but that was lunch one day before beginning the picking up of kids from school.

 The guy I know talked as if I could show up and have a job, but I have to keep in mind my availability as this place isn't open most days, and that's been my schedule for a couple of years.  I've gotten more hours while Momma gets nights which have been better for her.  It's worked, and one of us is almost always able to be with the kids.  She's willing now to switch her own availability some, and that would certainly help if I decide to take the job.

Of course this does nothing to help my getting-out-of-restaurants-maybe thing I've been thinking about, but maybe it'll be good until I get to that point for reals.

dirty water legs

Other than the distance from my current home to work, I'm loving riding a bike.  There are those times, however, when Momma's car is available, and I take it.

I can't easily move around with the kids on a bike.  Big Brother has a bike in the garage that needs to get pulled out and dusted off.  One good thing about this house is that we're really close to his school, so whenever we get around to getting him to do it he can ride his bike.

Sunday night saw me making my first ride for the hell of it.  I toured a local greenway with a couple of coworkers, we even forded a stream, but we weren't supposed to be there, so don't tell anyone.  I rode approximately twenty miles that day.

I don't know if that's a lot for people who ride bikes, but right now it's a lot for me.  I'm used to doing ten at most, the distance to and from work, and I wonder if it's a lot or if it feels like a lot jumping from a car to the bus to the bike in such quick succession.  My last drive in my much beloved Accord was 1/9.

And I'm also wondering lately if there are more people riding bikes lately, or am I just now noticing so many because I've suddenly joined them.  I've always seen them and been a little jealous.  Riding my bike stands out as the best times I ever had growing up.  I don't know if that has anything to do with it, but I've missed having a bike since the last time I really had one.

I have to congratulate myself again on such a great purchase in a bike, though I'm already wanting to do some slight modification.  What I actually want is a new pair of wheels and more roadworthy tires, though I don't want a skinny tire by any means.  And I want to be able to slap the mountain bike tires on at a moments notice.

Speaking of which, I want to actually put those mountain bike tires to their intended use as my weekend is upon me.  There's a local park with three loops designed for different levels, and though I haven't see it yet I'd like to think that beginner one has my name written all over it.  I'm not yet convinced it's within biking distance, and I haven't really tried to find anyone that would/could ride who would also have a car with bike toting capabilities.  Also, it's possibly supposed to rain again tomorrow.  Again.

Okay, it can't yet rain again tomorrow, but it can rain again, and I think I heard to expect it to do so tomorrow.

And with that I should probably just stop.  I just noticed the time and thought that it's a good time to be riding.  It's beautiful out right now, and just cool enough to be really nice.  I'm going to go stand in it and enjoy a cigarette.

and doggone it . . .

One of those things happened tonight on the ol' Fb as I was reminded why I deleted so many friends so long ago.  A teacher from my high school years made a comment that was slightly politically charged, and I said something to disagree.

He said something about Obama being our first black president and being half white, and I corrected him that Clinton was actually our first black president.

He of course then pointed out that both were bad people and wrong, so I commented that I was rolling up my pants.

I took myself away from the debate, but I made sure to do so in a slightly passive aggressive way.  Now maybe I'm prejudiced when it comes to me, but I think that shows a touch of class.

more forced trip greening

I can't believe it's taken me this long to realize, but I've been doing it wrong.  I shouldn't be surprised that once again I've been missing the obvious.

Honestly, it's not necessarily a sudden realization.  I've been a little bit stubborn about, and it's kinda stupid when I admit to it.

My bike ride to work is about five miles.  I don't ride that everyday, and I don't make the round trip every day that I do ride.  The day that I bought the bike is the last time that I rode the bus and the only time the bike has ridden the bus that I know of.  Momma has been generous with her pity and her decisions to give me a ride to work, and depending on our schedules, sometimes we're both going to and coming from downtown that it just makes sense to take the ride.

My average time to or from is about thirty minutes.  The bus also takes about thirty minutes.  It stands to reason that a combination of bus and bike would be the best way to go rather than to add a five mile bicycle commute to a body that isn't really that used to the exertion.

But for whatever reason I didn't reason it out quite like that.  I saw a savings of the fifty dollar for a month bus pass.  Also, there isn't a bus on Sunday that will get me to work on time, and most Sunday's I'm scheduled at either eight or nine.

I don't dislike either the bus or the bike.  I appreciate the usefulness of the bus and will begin using the service again.  I love the bike, and I love riding, but I really am not in the physical condition to chew that big bite I bit.  Sunday's will have to be my suck-it-up-and-take-it day, and honestly, I'm going in to work brunch, which I truly hate, so I'm already sucking up and taking.

Perhaps I'll work some other deal to make my Sundays less hurtful.  There has to be a way.  But until then I'm going to make my other days slightly easier if not as cheap.  I'm going to find the balance between where I get on and off the two conveyances, trading each for the other at my whim.

There's also some thought about moving closer to town.  Everything I want or want to do is that direction, so it only makes sense.  But that's another post for another time.